‘On your own? Would that be safe?’ Peggy asked, sounding worried.

  Sara laughed. ‘I won’t be visiting crack dens or drug cartels, sweetheart. I think California is pretty tourist-friendly.’ It felt a bit scary, travelling without a companion, but also exhilarating – she’d be shaking off all of her responsibilities for what felt like the first time in her life.

  ‘Maybe Joni can come with you.’

  ‘I think she’s too busy. Anyway, nothing’s set in stone. I’ll give it some proper thought and let you know what I decide.’

  ‘Is this trip anything to do with Bernard?’ Peggy asked cautiously, after a small silence. ‘You wanting to get away?’

  Sara could tell that her daughter was curious to hear the details about why they were not together any more. She’d said very little to either Peggy or Joni, let it be assumed it was a mutual parting of the ways. ‘Not really. I need a change of scene, I think,’ she replied, not entirely untruthfully. ‘Do something just for myself. I really miss Granny, but I suppose I do feel a bit freer now I don’t have to keep a constant eye.’

  ‘I liked Bernard,’ Peggy said wistfully, after a moment, ‘I know he had stuff going on, but I thought he was a really great guy.’

  ‘Me too,’ Sara said, with a catch in her throat that she quickly cleared. ‘Now, tell me what’s happening with Beng. I still haven’t met the man.’

  ‘Oh, that’s over, too. I dumped him last week. Turned out to be a bit of a flake,’ declared her daughter, with commendable nonchalance.

  Sara listened with one ear as Peggy went on to list all her ex-boyfriend’s transgressions.

  Her travel idea was just another of her spurts of forced enthusiasm with which she was trying to restart her life. More training, moving house and learning Spanish had all been given the once-over and rejected for lack of even the slightest inclination. Getting far away from Lewes, from her work routine, from friends and all the things that triggered memories of Bernard seemed like the best plan so far. By the time she returned, her mind would have shaken itself free of the recent past. She would be able to start afresh with a clean slate. And maybe with renewed hope, which was sorely missing from her world. Or so she told herself.

  After her phone call with Peggy, she didn’t allow herself time in which to change her mind. Clicking on Joni’s number, she left a message: Thinking of coming over for a visit sometime early May. Is this a good idea? Talk soon, love you xxx. Because she knew that once her daughter had her teeth into a plan, there would be no shilly-shallying, no turning back.

  Hell, yeah, Mum came back an almost instant reply, the message littered with clapping hands and pumping heart emojis.

  Sara’s fifty-ninth birthday came and went with a delicious tapas supper Sammi had painstakingly prepared: mouth-wateringly crisp, salty chipirones, patatas bravas to blow your head off, charred padrón peppers, thick slices of herby tortilla, Serrano ham and mixed olives. She drank too much, the evening outwardly lively and fun with her friends, but she couldn’t help missing Bernard – knowing how much he would have relished the occasion. She wondered if he even knew it was her birthday. At some point she’d probably told him, as he had her – his, she knew, was in early June. But they had not managed to live through a whole year of birthday celebrations.

  Her trip to California was now written in stone: flights booked, car hired, two weeks with Joni on the slate, and various local trips planned. After that it was up to Sara how far and for how long she ventured on her own. Right now, she had butterflies whenever she thought about wrenching herself out of her comfort zone and boarding the plane. But she was also aware of a pleasurable sense of anticipation.

  ‘I’m going up to the cliff house tomorrow,’ she told Precious and Sammi, as they sat in the warm April evening, the setting sun filtering through the trees in the nearby gardens. Each had an espresso, while a slab of almond chocolate and a bowl of dusty red grapes were doing the rounds. ‘I need to collect the rest of my stuff before I go away.’

  Precious frowned. ‘Will he be there?’

  It was clear from her friends’ comments over past weeks that they were in two minds about Bernard. Sammi, with his soft heart, felt, on balance, that Sara should not shut the door on him. Precious worried that if she didn’t, she would just be back at square one, overwhelmed by the Lockmore drama again. Sara was pretty sure both saw through her protestations that she was over him.

  She shook her head slightly, as if it were not important. His text had been short in response to her asking about the best time to collect her stuff: I’ll be out of the house Thursday and Friday this week x. Which she took to mean he didn’t want to see her. I don’t want to see him, either. She dreaded the prospect, in fact, knowing it might spark such a longing that she wouldn’t be able to hide her feelings. But she also wanted to see him so much she felt as if her skin were being scorched. ‘I’m relieved,’ she said quickly.

  Precious did not speak, but her eyes were kind and quietly sceptical.

  ‘It’d be too awkward,’ Sara added, as if her friend had spoken.

  ‘What about Adam?’ Precious asked.

  She had thought of this, too. ‘I’ve no idea if he’s still there. But I assume he’ll make himself scarce if he is … and he knows I’m coming round.’

  Sara could hardly have been more nervous the following day – even compared to the first time she’d come up to the cliff house on the night of the storm. There was no sign of Bernard’s Mercedes. She didn’t know whether to sigh with relief or cry with disappointment. She reckoned it wouldn’t take her long to pack her things – perhaps twenty minutes, at most: she had never moved a huge amount of stuff up to Bernard’s. Now that she was there, and on the point of putting her key into the lock, she couldn’t wait to be gone again.

  The place was its usual silent, cloistered self, a faint smell of toast floating on the still air. She stood by the door and listened. Not a sound. She had knocked on the front door, prior to letting herself in, but no one had answered. Exhaling slowly, she almost tiptoed up the stairs to the bedroom, feeling furtive and uneasy, as if she was an intruder.

  Throwing her suitcase from the bottom of the cupboard onto the neatly folded turquoise quilt, she hurried to pack each half, carelessly folding her dresses and sweaters and layering them on top of trainers and her red espadrilles. Then she moved into the bathroom, cramming her creams and hair products into a washbag too small for the purpose. The faster she worked, the less time there was to be upset by the scent of Bernard’s shaving soap, the sight of his toothbrush, his reading glasses lying on the night table beside the bed.

  Emerging from the en-suite, her head full of those days when they’d showered together, cuddled and laughed in the darkness, she jumped, heart thumping. Adam stood silently in the doorway.

  ‘God, you gave me a fright,’ Sara said, palm to her chest. ‘I didn’t think anyone was here.’

  He shifted on his bare feet. ‘Sorry … I was out walking.’

  ‘I’m just collecting my things. I’m going away,’ she said quickly.

  He nodded. But he didn’t move from the doorway.

  Tucking the washbag into the case and closing each side, she barely glanced at him as she asked, ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m … OK,’ he said, a quiet smile lighting up his face in a way she had never seen before. ‘Better, anyway.’

  ‘That’s good.’ She knew she sounded brusque, but she had no desire to get into the politics of Adam’s recovery, not again. She flopped one side of the large case over the other and began to labour with the outside zip, pressing down on the bulging canvas and struggling to unite the two. She wished Adam would go away.

  Then he was by her side. ‘Let me,’ he said, bringing his masculine strength to the situation. In his hands, the zip toggle moved effortlessly around the case. ‘There,’ he said, lifting it to the floor and extending the handle for her.

  She smiled up at him. ‘Thank you.’

  For a second, he hovered. Then he plonked himself down on the bed. It was clear he wanted to say something. Anxious to go, but curious, she waited, hand on the case handle. It was stuffy in the room, the spring sunshine burning hot through the skylight. She realized she was sweating and thirsty.

  ‘I just wanted to say that I know you did your best … with Dad … and the whole situation.’

  Surprised, she didn’t reply.

  Adam was looking at his hands, pressed together between his knees. ‘For a start, you backed Carrie up … That was huge.’ Silence fell as he pulled at some loose skin on his index finger. ‘And the therapy … you were right about that too.’

  Giving a small sigh, Sara sat down next to him, not speaking. His words seemed so tenuous, she felt they might evaporate if she interrupted him.

  ‘We went to see Maria’s husband the other day. I know you suggested that to Dad, as well.’

  ‘That was brave,’ she said, the words scraped almost unwillingly off her tongue. ‘How did it go?’

  Adam sighed. ‘Hellish … but ultimately helpful – for all of us, I think.’

  ‘And the therapy?’

  He gave a soft laugh. ‘Life-changing.’

  Wow, Sara thought. Things really have moved on.

  ‘No word from the CPS?’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s been so long … I try not to think about it.’ He pulled a face. ‘Impossible, of course.’

  How’s your dad? The question hung heavy in the quiet room, but she didn’t ask it.

  ‘I’m glad you’re getting help, Adam.’

  Finally, he turned and met her eye. His own were painfully similar to Bernard’s and she caught her breath. ‘I wanted to say … we couldn’t have done it without you.’ His glance shifted as if he were embarrassed. ‘Thank you.’

  He got up abruptly and walked towards the door. When he reached it, he turned, and added softly, almost as an afterthought, ‘I’m sorry I behaved like such an arse, Sara.’ Then he was gone.

  She heard a door close quietly along the landing as she sat there in stunned silence, trying to unpick what had just happened. Adam seemed like a different man from the one who’d watched her leave that day with barely disguised glee. How difficult must that have been, just now? she thought, with respect. He’s come a long way.

  She got up and began to drag her case towards the stairs, suddenly desperate to get away. Letting her guard down, engaging with the problems that had driven her away in the first place, had brought everything back, like the whoosh of an erupting geyser. She wished Adam hadn’t spoken to her. His apology was gratifying … and moving. She didn’t want to be moved.

  54

  Bernard threw a pizza into the oven. He’d given up cooking, no longer willing to make the effort. All day he’d been on tenterhooks, knowing that Sara would be at the house at some point. The first thing he’d done on arriving home was to go upstairs and check the cupboards. He’d stood contemplating the rattling empty hangers for a long time and wanting to weep.

  Earlier, almost as if Sara had prompted it – as she had, unwittingly, so often in the past – he’d rung Naz Kumar, got him to check what was happening with their case. It was over three months now and they’d heard nothing. The call just added to his low mood, reminded him of what was still to come.

  Adam sloped downstairs.

  ‘Hey,’ Bernard greeted his son, who made a beeline for the fridge and brought out a can of gluten-free beer.

  ‘What’s for supper?’

  ‘Pizza … again. Did you see Sara?’ He hoped, if his son had, that he hadn’t been rude to her.

  Sitting down at the table and flipping open the tab on his beer with a thumb, Adam nodded slowly. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘How was she?’

  ‘Seemed OK.’

  Frustrated, Bernard almost snapped, ‘“OK”? What did she say?’

  Adam didn’t reply at once as he sipped his beer. Bernard felt his body fizzing with impatience.

  ‘I said I was sorry, Dad. I said I’d been an arse.’ He gave him a forlorn smile. ‘I thanked her for all the help she’d tried, unsuccessfully, to offer us stubborn Lockmore fucks.’

  Bernard let go of the breath held tight in his constricted chest. ‘Right … That’s good … And what did she say?’

  ‘Not a lot. Just that she was pleased I’d got help.’

  ‘Did she mention me?’ He’d noticed the key he’d given her sitting on the ledge by the front door when he came in, but he’d ignored it. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from her visit. What he’d been hoping for.

  Adam shook his head. ‘Just packed her things and left.’

  Silence fell over the kitchen, both men lost in their own thoughts.

  ‘I’m glad you apologized, Adam.’

  Adam chewed his thumbnail. ‘She didn’t do anything wrong, Dad. We punished her for being the voice of reason … for speaking the truth.’ He sighed. ‘But I just didn’t want her around and I was so cruel … I’m ashamed of myself.’

  The timer pinged. Bernard went to open the oven and take out their supper.

  ‘She said she was going away, Dad.’

  Bernard spun round, almost causing the pizza – which looked overcooked and unappetizing now – to slide off the tray. In the past he would have put a salad with it. But tonight he just set it on the table and handed his son the slicing wheel. ‘Away? Where to?’

  ‘She didn’t say.’

  ‘Maybe she’s visiting Joni …’ Bernard mused, realizing, after the initial shaft of panic at the thought of her not being there, that it didn’t matter one way or the other if she was going for a week or a year. He wouldn’t be seeing her anyway.

  After a long pause, Adam said, ‘Dad … do you think you should talk to Sara, try to get her to come back? You two were solid, weren’t you? I feel so guilty … It was my fault she left.’ He rolled the wheel across the pizza without much enthusiasm. ‘I know you’ll kill me for saying this now, when the damage is already done, but she’s nice, a really decent person.’

  Bernard gazed out of the window as he waited for Adam to serve himself. It was an unfairly beautiful spring evening – not a breath of wind – and he’d have loved nothing better than to be sitting outside on the terrace with Sara and a glass of good wine. Looking back at his son, he said, ‘We still have this problem hanging over our heads. I don’t want her to have to deal with that … Anyway, I imagine she’s moved on.’

  55

  It was evening, two days before Sara’s departure. Precious had come over after work and was now lying on her stomach across the bed while Sara packed, supposedly offering advice on what to take.

  Picking up a yellow cardigan from the pile waiting to go into the case, she pulled a face. ‘Not sure about this one, darlin’. Is mustard a good look, even in the Californian sun?’

  Sara laughed. ‘OK, maybe not. I’ve hardly worn it and there’s probably a reason. But I’ll need something for the evenings.’ She held up a thin blue sweater with three-quarter sleeves, a question in her eyes.

  ‘Yeah, better. Is it cold at night?’

  ‘Cooler, not cold. It should be lovely during the day, Joni says.’

  ‘Wish I was coming with you. We could have had some fun, rocking up the west coast like Thelma and Louise – without the grisly denouement, of course.’ She rolled onto her back, still watching Sara. ‘Are you really going to go it alone?’

  Sara felt suddenly overwhelmed. Clutching the sweater to her chest, she pulled an anxious face. ‘I think I am. I don’t see myself as the sort of person who does intrepid things, so I am a bit nervous. But I want to do Margaret proud. It’s such a privilege, being able to take time off like this.’ She smiled. ‘I’m going to make the most of it.’

  ‘Oh, sweetheart. I’m so jealous. You’ll have a brilliant time. And it’ll be good, putting distance between you and any chance of bumping into Bernard.’

  Sara gulped.

  ‘Listen, go and be with gorgeous Joni. Have a blast, eat watermelon, get a tan, snog a surfer. Put the last few months behind you.’

  Sara tried to connect with Precious’s vision. But since seeing Adam she’d felt discombobulated, scratchy, as if she had an actual rash on her body. Being at the cliff house had punched a hole in her albeit flimsy defences. ‘I’m not going to forget him, though, am I?’

  Her friend sighed impatiently. ‘No, obviously not. But things fade with time, you know they do.’ Then she sat up straight, her face suddenly questioning as she shot Sara an earnest look. ‘You could always phone him before you go, I suppose, get final closure …’

  ‘For God’s sake, Precious! What are you saying? I’m doing my level best to move on and you’re suggesting I call him?’ Sara flinched. ‘Anyway, we have closure.’

  Precious calmly raised her eyebrows. ‘Keep your wig on. It just seems like the only thing you really want to do.’

  56

  Bernard saw Naz’s name come up on his screen just as he was about to leave for work. He was late, it was after ten, and he had a ton of stuff to do at the office, but he had lain in bed for hours last night, unable to sleep, yet too lethargic to get up and frighten the neighbours with a midnight walk. Then he’d crashed heavily until only half an hour ago. He still felt woozy and sleep-deprived, even with a couple of mugs of strong black coffee inside him. ‘Hi, Naz.’

  ‘Good morning, Bernard. Are you driving?’

  ‘Driving? No, why?’ His heart began to beat faster. It was impossible to tell from his solicitor’s voice whether the news was good or not – Naz always sounded like a slightly formal, benign uncle, even though he was pretty much the same age as Bernard.

  ‘Just thought you might like to swing by the office on your way to work?’

  ‘Oh, my God! You’ve heard? Tell me now, Naz, for Christ’s sake. I can’t wait till I get to your bloody office.’

  ‘OK, well, the CPS have finally been in touch, after days of my harassing them –’

  ‘Get on with it.’ Bernard was familiar with the phrase, ‘your heart’s in your mouth’, and suddenly he knew where it came from. His was currently choking him.

 

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